


Fighting for her

by colorful_life



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Knight Derek Hale, Knight Peter Hale, Princess Lydia Martin, Slave Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 14:36:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12889983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorful_life/pseuds/colorful_life
Summary: Falling in love with the princess? disrespectfull...Impersonating a Knight? Could be punished by death...Courting the princess? Surely punished by death!Who he is? The stable boy - A slave...His crime? Falling for the princess...His savior? Hopefully, said princess!





	Fighting for her

**Author's Note:**

> *flashbacks*

"No!" 

The most beautiful voice in this kingdom shouted, as his helmet was removed by the man who were holding him.   
What had happened that he found himself in this position?   
The reason was love. His love for the woman, the farthest out of his reach. Who she is? The Princess.  
The kings only daughter, who should be wed to the winner of the now happening games.

Normally, only noblemen, knights with an high amound of lands or even a few princes, those who won't be king, were to compete. He himself had no right to do it, for he was a slave. No one, especally not the king, would accept someone like him, property supposed to serve, as their future ruler.   
But the princess. She would do that. She loved him. The crowned Princess of a mighty kingdom fell in love with the stable boy. 

*She saw him every time she had come to get her horse. And every time he would ready it for her. The first few times he kneeled on the dirty floor, but after a few visites she got him to stand. His head would stay bowed nontheless. She was so much higher in rank than him, but she wanted no other man to be with her.  
He had heared of her beauty, but as he was a slave, he had no right to look at her. The same goes for speaking. If someone would catch him saying one word when the princess was near him, he would be dragged in front of the king to await his punishment.

But she got him to speak. Lydia, as her name was, made it happen that he slowly began to talk to her. Of course only in situations, no one could hear it. It started with a quick "Your Highness" added to the bow, when he saw her comming into the stable.   
One day, she was upset and she wasn't able to hide her tears the time she reached her steed. He had realized her mood and felt the need to comfort her. A carefully asked "Are you allright, Your Highness?" was the fìrst thing, more than the title, he ever had said to her.   
The tears on her cheeks made his heart clench. He didn't want her to cry, so he had dared to speak up.

Lydia had just looked at him and smiled. "You can talk." She had turned around to see shock plastered on his face.  
"Forgive me." The next second he had been on the floor, kneeling, hoping that she would have mercy for his mistake.   
This was the moment, the two of them realized, that there was something between them. She had told him that she would appreciate it, if he would talk to her normally.*

"Bow to your king!" Two men, that already were knights, held him down on the floor, forcing his head lower. Not that they needed to, but they wanted to make sure, that he stayed bowed in front of his king. "That's no knight! It's a slave!" 

Gasps went through the crowd and many shared their opinion on what just had happened in front of them with their neighbour. The young man could feel a sword on his throat, threatening to slit it any moment. His heart beat faster and his breathing had increased, too. All he focused on in this situation was the woman he loved. He tried to show her how much he loved her, with his eyes. He wouldn't fight his capturers, knowing that he deserved it, considering what he did. He impersoned a noble knight to compete in the king's games in honor of the princess. He wanted her beautiful face to be the last thing he saw.

"No. Dad please. It's not his fault."  
All eyes, which were on the slave on the sand in front of them at first, were on the princess now.   
"It was my idea to do that and I was the one, who gave him the armour."

*"But is it save to do this?" Lydia laid in the slave's arms. They were in a hidden room in the stables, where no one ever went into. "I don't know, princess, but I would take the risk, if it ment that I can legally be with you." He lowered his head to kiss her forehead. She closed her eyes, enjoying the small gesture of affection. She smiled, before it changed into a frown. "You could die." She sat up and turned around, still being held by her lover. "If they catched us here I would too. It's my chance to be with you without having to hide. I don't care what punishment my king sentences me to, as long as I can be with you." He kissed her again.

"It makes no difference, if they catch us like this, or if they punish me at that competition, impersoning someone higher. I'm dead both ways, and we both know that. Just... Remember that I love you, when it's time."*

Lydia turned to her father. "I wanted him to compete here and I wanted him to win." Again gasps rose in the crowd and the slave, held down by the knights, stared at her in shock.   
She defended him in puplic. He felt pride forming in his chest, side to side with the fear that had manifested itself there just moments ago.  
"What? Why would you want a slave to win? Not to mention as your future husband?!"   
The girl sighed. "Because... Because I love him dad." 

"You. Love. Him? A slave?" The King pointed his finger at the poor boy kneeling at the ground. He was exposed to the crowd, ashamed, that he had embarrassed himself and, unintentionally, embarressed his princess. "I do, father. And nothing can change that." She sounded confident, but on her inside, her heart was beating as fast as her lover's.   
"As I said, Lydia, this is a slave."  
The more his master told everyone what rank the boy had, he got more nervous. Although he was astouned, that Princess Lydia told them that she loved him, to try and save him. But he knew, that nothing would save him. His fate was signed, the moment he changed into this armour.

*"I'm nervous." Lydia had helped her lover into the clothes, she had stolen out of the closet of her best friend Derek, head of the guards, ordered to protect her.  
He had cought her as she took his spare armour and demanded to know why she needed it. "Princess Lydia, this is dangerous! Your father won't be pleased." She had looked at him with pleading eyes. "Please Derek, you can't tell him. I- We have to try. It's our only chance." She looked down. "I love him."   
Her guard nooded and bowed before he left. "Ok. You can take it. I hope it fits. Good luck, Your Highness, you'll need it."*

"My Lord." The moment Derek spoke up, Lydia felt a bit of hope again. She looked at her father and excpected to hear him yell at her friend, but to her surprise he nooded. "Go on, Sir Hale."   
"Thank you, my Lord. May I suggest you ask him, why he did it? Or What he feels towards your daughter. If he can reason his action, your Majesty, there could be another punishment decided, than death." Derek bowed his head when he finished. While he had spoken, he had been standing next to his princess, from where he now, that he had finished, had stepped back again, to positionate himself behind her again.

"Well, considering that it's a slave, we are talking about, who impersonated a knight, which alone is punishable by death, the sentence should be fix."   
The kneeling figure still looked at his mistress, admiring her beauty, even if he was sure, that his life would be over in a few moments. "Not only had he impersoned a noble, he had courted the princess. This slave dared to ask for his mistress' hand in marriage." 

"I have one question though, boy: What could you possibly offer her? You belong to me, you have nothing to give." Lydia got more nervous. What was her fathers plan? 

The slave needed a few seconds to realize that he had been asked a question and was about to speak up, when his head was suddenly pulled back and turned in the direction, where the king sat. "Answer your king, filth!"  
A pained expession crossed the boys face.  
Lydia held her breath. She knew, that no matter what her lover said now, he would face a punishment. And not just a whipping. As her father had said, alone that he had impersoned a knight was punishable by death.

*"Master won't be pleased." It was a thought, that he spoke out loud. He hadn't ment for it to slip out of his mouth, but he couldn't take it back now, the princess had heard it anyway. He was leading the black steed, where his princess sat on, towards a clearing in the woods. She had made it happen, that, when she's on a ride with her slave, no one would follow them. Not even guards. 

Lydia knew that he was able to protect her and had convinced her father of that.   
"Why are you so concerned about my father?" She looked at him with furrowed brows.   
"Why are you not? Your Highness, he's my master, even if I'm your slave, he owns me, too. He is the fucking king!"   
He didn't realize, that he had raised his voice at her at first, but as it settled in he immediadly stopped to move. "Forgive me, Mistress. I overstepped the line more than once." 

He had bowed to her. 

He hadn't done that for a long time till then. Since they had become what they were now.  
But what was that? What were they? Clearly, they weren't a couple. At least not officially. But, just friends they were neither.   
"Hey, love, don't bow to me. You didn't have to do it for so long. Please, don't start it again now. There's nothing to forgive, you know you can speak open to me."  
The slave looked up at the young woman on the horse beside him. Concern he saw in her face, what made his heart clench. The princess cared about him, more than she should. But she didn't care, he knew that. The young man nodded and started to walk the horse, and his mistress, further to the forest.*

A few seconds had passed, in which the slave had just stared at Lydia. She herself had stared right back into his eyes. A small smile had appeared on her face, while she was cought in his gaze.  
"Didn't you hear? Answer, Slave!"   
Yet, their moment was disturbed by the guard holding him. Said man shoved the kneeling figure forwards, so that he was half laying with his face on the ground now.  
He tried to regain his former position, but failed, not able to use his hands. Lydia gasped quietly. "Help him back on his knees. That's an order!" Her father looked at her, as she spoke. 

"Well, I didn't get my answer yet, boy. What could a slave like you offer my daughter?"  
Lydia could see her lover bow his head and swallow hard one time before opening his mouth to speak. "Love, Master. I don't own anything material, Sir, for I'm property myself, but I know I love her and I would never treat her bad. She means so much to me, and her smile alone, when she says that she loves me, is all I can ask for."   
His head stayed bowed the whole time. "This competition was my only chance to show not only her, that I could be so much more than just a slave. That I can prove myself worthy of her, even if I know already, that I never would be."  
"I could kill you for this sentence alone, you know?"  
The slave nooded. "Yes, Master."

*"If I die, please don't hold onto me. Enjoy your life, fall in love with a noble or a prince even. I'm not worth being mourned on for long." The slave sounded sad, as he said that.   
"You won't die, love. I won't let it happen. There has to be a way to be together, without you dieing at the end." They were at their hidden chamber again, sharing a moment for them self after one of the princess' rides.  
"There isn't, I'm no noble. I am no knight or soldier either. Not even as a commoner I could identify myself. A lowly servant, a slave, is what I am."

"No, not to me! There is a competition, my father hosts. The winner gets to marry me. You have to join, you can prove your worth. Maybe dad would knight you if he sees how good you are. And even if he doesn't offer you my hand in marriage, you can court me then. You would have the right!"  
Lydia had brought her hand to his cheek and caressed it. "I won't let them take you away from me. I love you!" 

The slave froze then. This had been the first time his princess had said that she loved him. He had just stared into her eyes for seconds, before he kissed her with all the love he had for her.*

The king was interested now. "And though you confessed your crime in front of nearly a thousand people? You would die because of her."   
The kneeling boy looked directly at his master, the first time in his life.  
"Love is a reason worth it, Master. I will not die because of the princess, but I gladly would die for her."  
He bowed his head again, knowing how he's supposed to stand -more kneel- in front of his king.

"Dad, please. Would you want to force me in a marriage with a man I barely know? One I don't know how he would treat me-"   
The King held up his hand for her to stop. "How would I know this slave would treat you well? He could just have said it to save himself."  
"He wouldn't, dad. He hasn't mistreated me the whole time he had been my slave now. Even when I confessed to him, that I loved him, he didn't change his attitude. He had still insisted to call me by my title, even if I offered him to call me by my name a million times. Or he still did avert his eyes from mine or show small signs of respekt. He would make sure that I'm fine and not just because he is a slave. I love him, and I know he loves me too. He showed me the last few months."  
Lydia looked at the man she loved, while she said the last few sentences, a dreaming gaze on her face.   
When she turned to her father, she had tears threatening to fall from her eyes.   
"Please, dad, you can't take him away from me. He is the first one who showed me what it ment to be loved, and even if he has nothing, he gave me all of himself. He gave me his heart, as he holds mine."

"I don't wanna be forced to marry some snooby wealthy lord. I want to marry because I love the one I am wed to. I want someone who has proven, that he earns my heart. And he has. Stiles has."  
Lydia looked directly in his eyes, as he managed to break free from his capturers and sprinted towards the balcony she sat on. The moment he stood only a few steps away, he stopped, bowed his head and waited.   
Stiles was sure, that the knights wouldn't chase after him, not after what the princess had said. 

The whole crowd had been silent while Lydia had spoken out her feelings towards her slave, while she had confessed her love.   
A few moments passed, before the crowd began to cheer and to encourage her to walk down into the arena-like circle, where the games had taken place.   
She did exactly that and disappeared through the big doors that led out on the balkon. When she reached her lover, she fell into his arms, finally letting her tears fall. Only now, it weren't sad ones, they were happy tears, because she could lay in Stiles arms again. 

*Stiles was now competing in his last fight, the final, standing face to face with his opponent. It was one of the King's personal guards, Peter Hale, a trained fighter. But the slave didn't show fear or hesitation. He accepted the challange. He'd do anything for his princess.   
"Beginn!" The king shouted and Stiles could see, how nervous Lydia was to see him in such a fight.   
He and his rival had circled one another, before he tripped and his eyes had been ripped from his opponend. Taking his chance, said men rushed forward. Stiles didn't even have a second to react, before he jumped aside and the lord's sword only cut his shirt. 

"Stiles, please. You have to survive." This was like a mantra to the princess, while she watched her love fight one of her fathers most skilled guards. She gasped when she saw the sword nearly hit him, but relaxed, when she saw that Stiles wasn't hurt. But he was cought more and more between the guard and the wall of the arena.  
His eyes rushing, never setteling on a place, he tried to find a way out of his trap. Peter came nearer with every passing second. The smirk he had on his face disapeared as soon as the older of the two fighters realized, that Stiles ducked under his sword, turned on his heel and stood now on his other side. He found himself in the trap, he had planed to catch his opponent in.   
Just in this moment, his gaze landed on the small collar around his opponents neck, which was hidden under the helmet, the slave wore. When he felt the tip of a sword then on his own neck, he saw a chance to get the princess' hand himself.  
"Deseption!" He had screamed and lifted his right arm. "Get him!"  
A haunted look had appeared on Stile's face, as his head snaped to Lydia. 

"No!"*

"Father! He had won your games. He had fought all the other men and in the end he's been rightful winner of the final fight! His rightful prize is my hand in marriage!" Lydia hoped that what she had said was enough to convince her dad to agree to her marriage with Stiles.   
The king nodded. "Do you really want him?" It was difficult, to read his face. It was cold for a long time, but as Lydia nodded and linked her Hand with her lover's, defeat could be seen in his eyes. "Alright."

"What's your name, boy. Your real name." The kings voice was harder again, as he spoke to the slave, who had flinched at that. He hadn't thought to be spoken to.   
"Stiles. Master." Still bowing his head he didn't see what was happening around him. The only thing he felt was Lydias hand in his, squeezing reassuringly.

"Stiles, this Competition wasn't one, you were to join, but as we all can see, you went against the rules, and won. You said you did it, to prove yourself worthy of your princess', your mistress', love. Do you still think you'd never be?"  
Stiles looked up at his king, "Yes, Master," and bowed his head again.  
Turning his head to look into the crowd, letting his gaze drift from one end to the other, the king asked: "Citizens of Beacon Hills. Did this slave prove himself worth the hand of a princess?"

Loudly, the crowd's clapping and cheering could be heared, as soon as the king had finished his sentence. He lifted his right arm to silence the crowd again before he spoke up. "I thought so."  
His gaze was on the slave again.  
"Stiles, look at me. You defeated all of your opponents in this competition, you confessed your love for my daughter in front of your king and many of the citizens of Beacon Hills, which needs a lot of courage. For that, I will gladly allow you to court your princess!"

Again the crowd cheered, shouting Stiles and Lydias names. The king had meanwhile made his way to join them on the sand.   
"You are a slave no longer, Stiles, rather I would have you knighted right here, in front of a good third of our citizens. Kneel, Stiles."  
Immediadly the slave let himself fall to his knees, knowing better than to obey delayed. He could feel the tip of a sword then on his right shoulder, then on his left. He'd just been knighted. The third time in this hour, the crowd cheered for the former slave kneeling in front of them. 

"Stand up, Sir Stiles! You're a knight now, Knights don't kneel."   
The young man, to shocked to really realize what just had happened, did as he was told. "Thank you, Mas- Your Majesty!" This time, his bow was just a short deep nod towards the King.

Lydia smiled one of the biggest smiles she ever had had on her lips. She would marry Stiles, her lover.  
She turned towards him, saw that he already was looking at her, and placed a kiss on his cheeks. 

"I love you!"

"I love you!" he smiled back and leaned dowm to kiss her. 

Legally this time.


End file.
